


not all who wander

by doingthewritethings



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blueberry Tea, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, First Fanfiction, Fluff, I suppose it is because I wrote it before Civil War had come out, I tag too much, Infrequent Strong Language, Introspection, Light on the hurt and heavy on the comfort, Minor Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Torture Mention, Multi, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Set pre-CA:CW, Team as Family, The Avengers all live in one tower, and I like to remind myself which ones, but I make it a point to include blueberry tea in every single one of my stories, copious and shameless references to other fandoms, enjoy these nerds, first fic published woot woot, which isn't a euphemism for anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doingthewritethings/pseuds/doingthewritethings
Summary: Sometimes, life gets tough. Their family is there to pick up the pieces.Or, the one where we learn the story of how all the Avengers picked up the habit of walking around SHIELD after missions.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So! This is my first ever story on AO3! I'm not as much in the Marvel fandom anymore, but I found this fic sitting half finished in my drafts and thought I might as well finish it. I'd love any feedback you want to give me, but keep in mind that I am not a professional author and am still in high school English!

Whenever missions get too hard, too rough, hit too close to home, they each deal with it in their own ways.

Clint walks.

The mission that day had been a branch of Hydra disguised as a circus ring. It should have been easy, take down the target and leave.

That was before Clint found the children that had been stripped of their childhoods, homes, lives, instead trained to be killers from day one.

He had panicked.

So when he got back, he didn't go to Avengers Tower. He hopped into an elevator at SHIELD Headquarters, got off, and walked.

SHIELD was incredibly huge. There were miles upon miles of storage rooms and offices and museum-like halls of memorabilia, and testing labs he probably wasn't supposed to be in. There was the med floor with countless doctors helping victims of the latest damage. Sometimes the staff were able to swap stories about helping the Avengers, but despite what SHIELD wanted the team rarely showed up.

There were millions of ways to go, and one could get lost and stay unrecognized. That was exactly what Clint needed. So after that mission, he pressed the button marked 'Floor 9' and when the doors opened, he started walking.  
He knew, even though Phil said otherwise, that when he was gone everyone worried. He had gotten into a habit, and kept doing it for almost a month until someone joined.

* * *

  
It was after a particularly hard op that Natasha, with all her training in stealth (and some hints from Coulson) managed to follow him.

He had decided to explore Floor 16. It was composed of storage of files, various junk they had brought back from missions that was either too dangerous or too important to throw away, and the millions of file cabinets storing records of every mission SHIELD had ever done.

Despite the fact that he'd been on this floor before, there was always somewhere new to walk and something new to find, so he continued.

It wasn't until after he had chosen a place to walk that he heard Nat, or rather, Nat let herself be heard.

"Hey," came the soft voice that only hours ago had been screaming at him to get his ass onto the plane or so help me.

"Hey," he said in return.

There wasn't much more that was needed after that, and the comfortable silence stretched between them until Clint decided to go to his favorite mission file.

As Nat saw him head toward the files marked B, she began to smile and helped him hunt for the one marked 'Budapest'.

* * *

 

The next to join was Tony. The villain of the day had been skilled enough in magic to make her disguise a perfect impression of Howard. After seeing that, being visibly shaken all day, and finally retreating to the cold bliss of alcohol, Nat had invited him before he drunk himself into oblivion.

It had helped. The trio stepped into an elevator, and by unspoken agreement they let Tony choose. He pressed the button for Floor 27, the labs. Unsurprised, they rode up and up in silence as Tony relaxed. A small amount, sure, but the difference was there.

After walking a little bit, Tony started chattering away. The other two were content to walk and let him continue talking about whatever it was that caught his interest.

"These tablets could really use some upgrading. Honestly, Fury? Give me a half hour in my lab and these babies would respond to voice commands, be 40 percent lighter, and have fully integrated AI to boot.

"And these. Look at how outdated the tech is. Honestly. How does this place even get anything done? I've decided it's probably because the people plotting against us take one look at this junk heap you call technology and run away screaming."

He went on like this for hours, and they were all thankful for the effect it had.

From then on Tony was a regular for walking the halls.

* * *

  
After that was Bruce. The day had been a struggle- Thor was gone to Asgard for the month, Steve and Tony had gone for a date to Coney Island, Clint and Phil were likely in a coat closet snogging, and Nat was gone who knows where.  
When the amateur yet highly powerful supervillain had showed up, it took everyone by surprise. By the time the rest of the team got there, almost a hundred pedestrian casualties had occurred.

'Pedestrian casualties'. Bruce hated that word.

It made the people who had lost their lives sound like buildings destroyed that could be rebuilt. It made them sound like they weren't people with friends and family that loved them, and favorite movies, songs, and colors, and personalities and quirks and smiles that would never be seen again because they had died too soon.

Shit, Bruce was making himself sad.

As he sat in the lab, isolating himself from the team, there was a knock at the door. It was Tony. Inwardly, he groaned, but it wasn't his team member's fault he was feeling the way he was.

"Aaaaay, Bruce, old buddy, old pal."

"Tony, I'm trying to-"

"I'm gonna be frank here, you're not okay. You've been sitting in this lab all day, not talking to anyone, I highly doubt you've eaten, and honestly that's my thing, get your own lock-yourself-away-from-humanity place, because labs and other sciencey places are mine. I've called them. Dibs. Dibs on the moping places."

"Tony, please-"

"But that's not why I'm here. You shouldn't beat yourself up over this. I would give you a speech but I'm not good at that, I have a feeling you're not up for hearing that, and I am fully aware of the fact that I'm rambling enough as is, so. I'm here to offer you a place in the team.  
What team, you may ask. I'm literally already on a team, you may protest. But this is no ordinary team. This is the- wait for it- walking around SHIELD because we feel like crap team!  
This sounds pretty boring, but trust me, it helps to take your mind off things. Plus, you can listen to me talk for hours on end as we browse SHIELD files! And if you come, I have a special floor just for you! So, whaddaya say?"

Bruce sighed, defeated.

After they gathered Clint and Nat, the quartet headed to the elevator. Tony, who had obviously thought about this beforehand, pressed the button for floor 38.

As they waited, Bruce had to remind himself to breathe. He looked around, noticing the gleaming silver of the elevator doors, listening to the beep as they passed each floor, and noting to himself that Nat was carrying a bag in her hand.  
The doors opened, and Bruce wasn't expecting what he saw. There was a movie theater, equipped with a mini fridge and popcorn maker in the back. The seats were plush leather, the screen was huge, and there were 14 different types of DVD players.

Clint took the bag from Nat and emptied it. Inside were tons of different DVDs and shows.

"We weren't sure what to choose, so here we have National Treasure, Inside Out, Beauty and the Beast, four seasons of Once Upon A Time, millions of seasons of Doctor Who, The Lion King, all the Star Wars, Howl's Moving Castle, Monty Python, and The Princess Bride. Pick a disc, any disc."

After a few minutes of thinking, he chose.

Tony made popcorn, Clint made drinks (mostly alcoholic), and the four of them had a Star Wars marathon.

* * *

 

Somehow Tony had been kidnapped again, and it took its toll on everyone. By far, though, the most affected was Steve. He was pacing the tower, shouting orders at the team, agents, and even at a table he bumped into, a sure sign of stress.  
The whole team knew, however, that he didn't really mean it. That also meant there was no way to stop it until they got Tony back.

That was when the kidnappers started sending videos.

Clint didn't like to think about it. He'd seen his fair share of torture. In his darker days he'd been somewhat of an expert.  
Steve forced himself to watch every last stream sent to them. None of them tried to protest, though they brought him food and as much support as he would allow.

(They knew he needed all the support in the world.  
They tried.)

Tony came back late on the fifth night, bruised and tired but this time around with a solid support system. Pepper refused to let go of him for an hour, and all through the debriefing, until he gently peeled her off and reassured her he was fine.  
Pepper was also the one that found him later, having a panic attack on the bathroom floor. She laid down the soup she had made (squash, his favorite) and kneeled down in front of him.

"Tony. Tony, look at me."

He drew in a raspy breath, and for a moment her stomach dropped as the thought of arc reactor damage crossed her mind.

Checking, she dismissed that idea, and yep, this was another problem entirely.

"H-hey, Pep. How's it-" he shivered and broke off. She bit her lip.

"Give me five things you can see."

"Is this another one of those therapist-"

He wilted under her gaze.

"One. Your hair. It's a new cut. Two. The bathroom tiles are blue. I helped you choose them. Three. The vent is banged slightly from the time Clint fell through it during the Paintball War of 2015. Four. Those are the towels Bruce likes. I blew one up on accident once. Five. I'm wearing grimy overalls, so really, if you could just leave I'll shower and be on my way."

She threw him a towel and the shampoo he liked, but persisted.

"Four things you can touch."

"Damn it, Pepper, I'm fine-"

"You're about as fine as the fabric on those overalls. Four. Things."

He sighed.

"Please?"

Begrudgingly, she got up to walk out.

"I'll know if you don't eat this soup."

"How would you-"

"I'll tell her, sir."

"Jarvis! You're such a-"

"Good friend? Caring individual? Why, thank you, sir. I'm honored."

Grumbling under his breath, Tony showered. It felt nice to get the layer of grime and the touch of _them_ off of him.

He received a text twenty minutes later that read "Meet me in front of the elevators. C and B are coming too. Bring Freedom. :* -N."

Tony went.

* * *

  
As they rode up in slightly cramped silence, Steve abruptly hugged Tony. He needed the smell of cologne and grease, of expensive wine and real leather. He needed to remind himself that Tony was still there, or else he risked going insane on a daily basis.

As dignified as he could be with a supersoldier around his shoulders, Tony looked at Nat.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," she said, and soon the doors clanked open to reveal the roof of the tower. Clint sat at a fire-pit (when did they get one of those?) and had set up a tent.

"You're so extra," mumbled Tony.

"You are the queen of extra," said Bruce, perched next to Clint. "Have a marshmallow."

"Do you know how much work it took to build this tent? Take it in, because it is  _never_ happening again," said Clint.

Tony looked up at the stars, which could still be seen despite the lights of the city he loved. He leaned onto Steve's shoulder.

They should probably all be dead, and not laughing over a dumb story of Clint's, sitting on a roof crammed into a tent he didn't know they had.

Then again, when had they ever stopped to listen to what was probable?

* * *

 

Thor came back from Asgard the week after that. He spoke, talked, did everything much less than usual. Moderation wasn't a word he usually adhered to.

It rained the entire day.

There was a debriefing on Loki, and Thor didn't show up.

Bruce was the one who sent out the text. They were all there in ten minutes.

It wasn't exactly normal, but then again, when had their lives ever been close to normal?

This was their normal.

Tony curled up on the couch, breathing slowed as he slept with his head on Steve's lap, the glow of the arc reactor dimmed. Natasha quietly muttered critiques of the fictional fighting styles to Clint, who had made it his sacred duty to cram as much junk food as possible into his body. Bruce fiddled with his glasses but sprawled in an oversized armchair with a cup of blueberry tea and not a hint of green. There was a light rain, the comforting kind that renews the world, and Thor smiled. This was as quiet and introspective as he ever got. The peace wouldn't last forever. It couldn't, not with the life they had chosen.

The next call to assemble would come soon enough.

For now, though, all those who wandered were found.

**Author's Note:**

> So there it was! Sorry the ending was a bit rushed, as it was written a year and a half after the first part and I'm not as aggressively enthusiastic about Marvel as I used to be. (It's still close, though. I'll kill a man for Tony Stark.) To anyone curious, the grounding technique Tony used for panic attacks is five things you can see, four things you can feel, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. I've used it before, and it personally helps me! The title is from the LOTR trilogy, as far as I know. It's used on a ton of hipster posts and struck me as fitting. (Yes, I know it's about Tolkien's weird-ass monsters. I don't care.) Hit me up at doingthewritethings on Instagram or Claire MacIntire on Pinterest to scream about fandoms, fanfiction, fictional characters, or life in general!


End file.
